Supper
by Ryooshi
Summary: The rating is R for blood, but I don't think it warrants a horror rating. It's not really about the FF8 gang as their children. A good read though. Part of something else that will probably never get posted.


This is a strange little story that is actually a part of something else that, chances are, will never get posted. To make things easier, I'll just tell you that these are the FF8 character's children. I made up these characters, but the parents belong to Squaresoft. So.... Um... yeah. I find this humerus, but some of my friends think I'm sick. Be forewarned. 

Oh, and Psycho is just a nickname. Do you really think that Quistis would allow Seifer to name her child something like that? Actually, he's named after his father. 

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It had been a good idea at first. They were bored now and knew they'd be hungry later, so they decided to make dinner. Just the four of them, none else. None else ever managed to get into their little posse. Just them, as it always had been, so they set up their plans. Chicken and vegetables were the final vote. The one girl, Alexis, started on the chicken, while the boys, J, Psycho, and Chris worked on the vegetables. 

It took a few moments to get the chicken prepared and in the oven and she took to dancing around the kitchen singing to a mixed tape she always had on her. The boys were not having so much luck, as they had never been as agile with their hands as Alexis and tended to be klunky. 

By the sink, Psycho had decided to work with the turnip. Preparing to cut it, he positioned the knife above said vegetable and lifted it, preparing to bring the blade down through the doomed plant. When he lifted the blade, the turnip, fearful for it's life, rolled away. This action was repeated twice more before, in a huff, Psycho was seen stalking to the garage. The three remaining exchanged curious looks before returning to their work. Moments later Psycho returned, carrying a vice, and stalked back to the sink. 

Running it under water for a moment, he set it up on the counter, inserting the offending turnip between the two pads. As he strapped it in, he did not notice that his actions had gained the attention of those around him. Stepping back, he smirked as he eyed his handiwork. Taking the meat cleaver again in his hands, he positioned himself as sixteen years of sword wielding taught him. Rearing to the side and behind, he took a great stroke at the vegetable and sliced clean through. His hands were wet though, and the knife slipped from between his fingers and swept across the room. It came to rest with a thud, implanted in the eye ridge of Alexis, who ceased her dancing and fell to the floor with the shock of the blow. In an instant all three boys were at her side, but she pushed them aside. Rising to her knees, she felt the blood trickling down her face and heard the dripping as it hit the linoleum. She could open her right eye and saw the panic stricken faces of her posse. Raising her hand to her face, she felt the handle of the cleaver and gingerly fingered it for a moment, shocked. They were all jolted out of their shocked silence as J jumped up and rushed out, leaving behind his black cowboy hat. They heard his running away yelling for his father. 

She paused for another moment to find that the blade had entered enough to chip her skull above her eye, but only scratched the flesh above and below. The base of the blade rose slightly, cutting her cheek and inch from her jaw, but her eye seemed okay. She grabbed hold of the handle and as J returned with his father, Irvine, she pulled it from her face, down and to the side, causing the blade to scar her further down along the jaw. 

Irvine yelled out and dashed across the room to her as some of the other parents ran into the room. He grabbed a dishtowel and pressed it to her face as Squall, her father, came in and was at her side in an instant. 

"What happened?" 

Alexis glared at her father with her good eye as Irvine shouted orders to those in the room. Holding up her left hand, she showed him the knife that was now crimson. He took the knife from her, throwing it into the sink and noticed the vice with the turnip still in it. Giving it a questioning look, he looked to Psycho who looked down, blushing and mumbled something incoherently. Moving back to his daughter, he noticed Seifer had crouched in front of her, Smirking. 

"Does it hurt much?" 

Had Irvine not been holding her face still while he was cleaning the wound, she would have smashed her face off the floor. 

"I'm not sure Uncle Seifer. My face is kind of numb." 

He laughed at this and patted her on the shoulder. 

"You're going to beat out both me and your father for scars." Getting up, he looked at his own offspring, Psycho, and grinned. "Next we'll get you one. We could start a whole tradition." 

Squall sighed, resting his face in his hand. "Just go call Quistis. This'll need stitches and she's the most qualifies to do it." Seifer nodded curtly and left. 

Irvine, still cleaning the wound and trying to slow the blood flow, spoke: "So who's going to tell us what happened?" 

Alexis tried to speak through the towel, but was muffled and ceased when she realized that she couldn't even understand herself. Psycho went to her side, grinning sheepishly. "I was trying to cut a turnip." 

Squall sighed again. "You're almost as incapable as your father." 

"Hey!" Seifer returned, leading a very worried looking Quistis with a med kit. 

Psycho looked at his parents, then back to Alexis. "I really am sorry, it was an accident. But hey! Just think! Scars are very becoming nowadays." 

She looked at him as Quistis began her ministrations. "Really." She stated, a glint in her eye. He barely saw the movement as her hand rose into the air. Fingers clawed, she brought her hand down his face, leaving three parallel lines of crimson from forehead to cheek. He drew back in surprise, putting his hand to his face. 

"There! Now you have some too!" She would have laughed, but Quistis had started stitching, and having needles in your face requires complete concentration. 

The three men just looked on as the other two boys attended their cat-scratched friend, and wondered how they managed to raise such strange children. 


End file.
